


Entrapment

by Straumoy



Series: Power Girl Short Stories [9]
Category: DC Elseworlds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crime Fighting, F/M, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-11-02 06:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straumoy/pseuds/Straumoy
Summary: There's been a string of complaints that the local park is no longer safe late at night. Efforts have been made to improve the situation, yet the threat persists. As the locals grow restless, the authorities ponder what to do next. Perhaps they can lure out the culprit with the right type of bait?





	Entrapment

Chad liked to be a winner. Play the game, find the best angle and tweak the odds in his favor. Hunched down in the shadows, behind some bushes he waited. Patience was key. Haste make waste boy; his uncle had told him before getting locked up for years. Chad couldn’t for the life of him remember what for, but the lesson stuck nonetheless. It was either late Saturday night or early Sunday morning. Hard to tell this time of the year, harder still without a watch. The park was quiet, just a soft wind rustled through the branches. On a rare occasion a car drove by on the road just beyond the tree line, cutting through the silence like a crude blade. Patience was key to unlock the price for winning.

Feet scraped against gravel. Chad inhaled sharply, held his breath while a single drop of sweat tickled down his temple. Someone drunk or at the least intoxicated by the looks of it. Steps were uneven, the path taken wobbling in slack S curves. Stepping into the street lamp in the park the person stopped to fiddle with the phone. Clothes were baggy, worn and second hand. A big rain coat like jacket, military green. Mismatching boots with shoelaces dangling around. Underneath that tattered baseball cap, illuminated by the telephone screen Chad saw the only thing that really interested him; the face of a woman. She was tall, about as tall as him. Not a sensual curve in sight, the baggy clothes hid her figure well.

In all honesty he preferred them shorter, pettier. Like Janet. Easy to pick up, light as a feather. Though there was some truth in that the taller they were, the harder they fell. Chad’s eyes shifted slowly to his right, his head following suit. Not a soul. Turning all the way to the left, he saw a couple coming his way. College students by the looks of the dude’s jacket. A sigh of nostalgia escaped him. College. The good old days with the boys. A nice few cold ones after the game. With Janet. Some quick estimates showed that the couple would pass on and be no trouble. Out of sight, out of mind. Patience had rewarded Chad with a key. Now all he had to do was to turn it to claim his prize. Another win for the books.

Quiet on all fours Chad stayed in the shadows, trekking down the path ahead of his prize. He settled in his spot like a trapdoor spider, waiting. There had been blind spots on the path before, the gap between the street lamps was enough to leave a slither of shadow. It was easy to win back then. Chad’s best season without a doubt. Nothing but touchdowns and slam dunks. Then the game changed. Upgrades were made, old lamps were removed, new ones installed and at tighter intervals. There was this panel on the front, to access the wiring on the inside. Give it a few solid kicks and the light went out. Wait a couple of weeks and it get fixed. Nothing another couple of kicks couldn’t correct though. Tweak the odds, line up the shot and score.

Heartrate rose, breath quickened. Eyes adjusted to the deep shadows. Chad remained fixed on his target. He had to stop himself from sniggering as the dumb bitch fished out her phone yet again while the night embraced her in full. With her shuffling feet and slogging steps, it’d be easy to hear her in the dark. Now though? The phone lit her up like a present underneath the Christmas tree. Chad got his game face on, found his footing. The moment he kicked off and shot out of the bushes like a panther, his game face cracked open into a gleeful grin, “C’m ‘ere beautiful!”

His shoulder slammed into her ribs. It was almost as bad as hitting a grown-ass man head-on. Arms clamped around her waist. Her footing failed. A solid kick over the gravel-covered path sent the two of them into the trees on the other side. They skidded further in on the wet grass, tall shadowy silhouettes of branches spiraled around them. A knee pressed down between her thighs, cold water bled through his jeans. Arms flailed around like angry whips. Nails and fingers scratching for a target. She was a feisty one. They all were. Even Janet. All so cute and sweet on the street, a total freak in the sheets. Chad’s queue came when the woman drew a deep breath. A hand landed smack over her mouth, nails dug into her skin. Not a word. Not from either of them. Just the gaze, it was all in the eyes. Through the light from the discarded phone, Chad didn’t expect to see such defiance. Hands slapped around all over his face, like a child’s futile protest against her parents' will. Find the wrists, pin them down. Use your weight, hold her down. Their faces mere inches apart, breathing heavily. Her strength fading. Just like Janet. Winner takes all.

Her warmth bled into his body. He’d waited long, cold hours for this. Swatting her jacket aside, his palm pressed against her frame. Tasting its curves. With every breath, her rich chest pressed against his. She was not like Janet. Beggars can’t be choosers, in for a penny, in for a pound. His thigh pressed further upwards, parting her legs. A busy hand made quick work of the washed-out t-shirt. Grinding against her, he was close. The touchdown was imminent. The cheering crowd never gave their thunderous roar. Chad paused. Why were the breasts framed in an oval window? Who wears skintight spandex these days?

The night turned into a hazy blur of shadows and racing street lights. Locked in a tornado of impossible strength, Chad lost his bearings. Something had him, that much was certain. For all the trashing about, there was something that held on to him. As the chaos settled Chad’s pants were warm, wet and full. Both in the front and in the back. Daring to open his eyes, he found himself high over the park. In a kneejerk response, he lapsed on to whatever was in front of him. An arm of inhuman strength. Beyond the arm was a pair of eyes, literarily glowing with a barely contained wrath. Only shredded pieces of the second-hand clothing remained, dangling loosely around the woman’s impressive physique. The skintight spandex did a pathetic job at hiding her muscles. A waist long cape fluttered lightly in the night breeze.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions. You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”

Chad’s throat swelled; words refused to come out. Just how does one respond to a god? The night got pierced by the cry of a siren. Shadows gleefully agreed to a distorted dance with flashing red and blue lights among the bushes and trees. People, about a dozen, mingled around on the park grounds below. Flashlights searching, radios whispering code and strange commands. Just when in the world did they get there? Had they been there all along, waiting? One, in particular, waved a flashlight in a come here gesture. Chad’s slow descent started not long after. He got handed over to the police like a spent napkin smeared with something disgusting, “Nice acting Power Girl,” the officer said.

She flashed him a smile, the kind that you show to people who’d stopped being coworkers and elevated to close friends, “You think I’ll get an Oscar if we submit the footage?”

“I don’t think the academy accepts infrared only film, so no.”

A finger raised in protest, gears in her head working, “How about… oh, those, those European festivals? Under some artsy partsy, post-modern- thingies.”

“Category?”

Power Girl snapped her fingers, “That’s the word.”

“No.”

ldquo;Trooper Thomson! C’mon!” Power Girl pouted, even stomping her foot. “I wanna be famous!”

Hooking his thumbs into his belt, trooper Thomson stood firm, “You’re plenty famous already. Alright, wrap it up, people. What’s the hold-up?”

“He’s pissed and shit himself.”

Trooper Thomson let out an exasperated sigh while shaking his head, “Power Girl…”

Power Girl offered her cape to another police officer, feigning ignorance, “Feel that? That’s some quality fabric. Doesn’t tear, even at Mach fifteen.”


End file.
